This, captured with a cameraphone, is the clock-watching, prissy, snotty, incompetent emergency room registration clerk who lost my paperwork so that I had to wait six hours last night to have a foreign object removed from my oozing, suppurating ear. I still can't hear out of it today. There's a circle in Dante's hell for people like this, with a long line of suffering people waiting forever to get in. I just sat there watching this woman talk to her boyfriend on the phone, stare vacantly at her screen, take a break after processing each blue sheet of paper to gossip with her co-workers, take long breaks, suck the ends of her hair like a vacant high-school bimbo from a cheap B movie about high school hell ...
In Brazil--a third-world hellhole, as we all know--this would not have happened, judging from my one experience with an excellent little hospital in S�o Paulo. Maybe it's because they're basically oriented down there to battlefield medical practice, to the national philosophy of the jeitinho--getting shit done, cutting through the BS. Don't have electrical power? There's a guy next door who can "yank a cat" for you: Hook you into the grid for free.
All I needed was the greenest intern in the joint to find the right pincers to get in there and pluck the damn thing out. Man, did it hurt.
I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it any more.